The Happy Art of Grandparenting
I just became a grandfather—and the role holds a lot of lessons for happiness.
I have finally grown into my name.
I was named after my maternal grandfather, Arthur Hansen—or, as I knew him, “Bedstefar,” the Danish word for grandfather, thanks to his heritage and first language. He was born in 1903, which was about the last time that Arthur was a popular name. By the time I was growing up, in the 1970s, it sounded, well, like a grandfather’s name.
But a couple of months ago, I became a grandfather myself. So, at last, the name fits.
The birth of my grandson is a source of unalloyed rejoicing, of course. Having your own children is scary and complicated, because a lot of change and sacrifice are involved. Having grandchildren, though, feels like no sacrifice at all. No one I know has ever said “I had big dreams for the future, but my grandchildren ruined all of that.”
But this is not to say that, for the happiness of all concerned, better or worse ways to be a grandparent cannot be found. In fact, quite a bit of research exists on the topic. Here, for myself and others, is a social scientist’s short guide to grandparenting.
Surveys on the subject suggest that being a grandparent delivers happiness for many reasons. One study from 2016 found that the favorite aspect of being a grandparent (for nearly 36 percent of men and 42 percent of women) was “mutual affection,” followed by “shared activities” (for 28 and nearly 24 percent, respectively). I would be interested to discover how this differs from measures of the best moments of fatherhood—which, as I recall, were led by “For the love of God, just a second without any screaming,” followed by “Maybe just a week without a trip to the emergency room.”
The difference in happiness between parenthood and grandparenthood starts with responsibility: The olds get to cherry-pick the good moments more than Mom and Dad. As a grandparent, you can indulge the kids with candy and then send them home to have a sugar-fueled meltdown. But the difference is also age-related: In my 50s, I am simply calmer than I was in my 30s, and that makes everything easier. The one less likely to have a meltdown is me.
The part played by aging comes up a lot in the research. In one 2003 study on “age identity,” which refers to how old one feels, researchers surveyed several hundred midwestern grandparents. The project found that younger grandparents felt older than other people their age did on average, while people who became grandparents when older felt younger, even as they gained experience in the role. This means nothing to me, because—being named Arthur—I have felt about 75 years old since I was a child, when I would join Bedstefar to watch Meet the Press and learn the proper technique to complain about the government.
The literature on grandparenting has defined at least five basic types: formal, fun-seeker, reserved, surrogate parent, and wise. I want to be in the second category—and that’s mostly how I’d classify Bedstefar. He had a large, custom-made bumper sticker that read Be Alert! The World Needs More Lerts! (He may not have come up with the line himself, but he was probably the only person who put it on his Buick.) He also always insisted that I play croquet with him out in the backyard; he always won, with ruthless efficiency and laughing uproariously. (By fun-seeker, I mean fun for him.)
Occasionally, Bedstefar was wise as well. I once asked him why he never let me win, and he became quite serious. “A man never shows weakness in croquet,” he answered. Words to live by.
Like Bedstefar, most grandparents feel that an important job they have is imparting life lessons. According to a 2018 AARP survey of 2,654 grandparents, more than half (53 percent) discussed morals or values with their grandkids. Some topics were less common than others: For example, only 23 percent said they felt comfortable giving advice about sex to their grandchildren. I’d estimate that zero percent of grandchildren feel comfortable getting sex advice from their grandfathers.
Most grandparents seem to believe they have a high-quality bond with their grandchildren. One study from 2002 found that 57 percent of grandparents rated their relationship as excellent, and 45 percent said they were “very close” to their grandchildren. The most involved grandparents are about two and a half times more likely than the most detached to say the relationship is excellent. Three things predict relationship quality and satisfaction, according to another study: contact frequency, participation in activities, and commitment.
In short, I should just show up a lot. I can do that. But what exactly should I do when we are together? Scholars in 2007 looked for the behavioral norms of grandparents and found two commonly cited characteristics: “being there” and “not interfering.” I take this to mean letting my grandson run wild, without the slightest hint of discipline. Hey, I’m just following the research here.
But I can take the hint that the norm is me “not interfering” with my grandson’s parents, not my grandson. This tends to be harder than just “being there,” because grandparents almost invariably doubt that their own kids are doing a perfect job of parenting. Indeed, the AARP survey revealed that only a quarter of grandparents think that parenting today is better than it was in their day. We believe we did it much better.
For one thing, more than three-quarters (77 percent) of grandparents agree or strongly agree that “parents today are too lax with their child(ren).” This is true: It is not the job of my son or daughter-in-law to be lax with their child. That’s my job, thank you very much.
One crucial issue I need to settle right away is what I am to be called. This is a weighty decision, because once you set it with the first grandchild, that’s who you are for all the rest to come. Based on the fact that my kids are getting married in their early 20s, it’s looking as if I am going to have a lot of grandchildren; I don’t want the whole crew referring to me as “Pops” or “Gampy” or similar undignified nonsense. And “Bedstefar” doesn’t make any sense, especially to my Barcelonan wife, who favors the traditional Catalan “Iaio.” Or maybe, harking back to my West Coast roots, “Grand-dude.”
Then again, I should really choose something distinguished—a name that ages well and screams This guy is a grandfather. Like “Arthur.”
